The Hunt for Gold
by Writer under training
Summary: This isn't the story of a superhero saving the world from a lecherous monster, or a pink blob that threatens the existence of humanity. This is the story of the hunted, a group of Super Saiyans. Fifteen hundred years after Goku's legacy, the powers these Saiyans possess are more of a curse than a gift. Complete OC characters. A new look at the world of Dragon Ball Z


**This isn't the story of a superhero saving the world from a lecherous monster, or a pink blob that threatens the existence of humanity. This is the story of the hunted, a group of Super Saiyans. Fifteen hundred years after Goku's legacy, the powers these Saiyans possess are more of a curse than a gift.**

My grandfather was killed by Majin Buu, or at least that's what my father said. Ever since that day I was obsessed by the singular goal of learning about Majin Buu. To the world, Buu was a powerful Martial artist, and the friend of Mr. Satan. But my father remembered it entirely differently. He said that Buu slaughtered people like it was his daily routine. I couldn't comprehend the memory lapse between the rest of the world and my father. Everyone ridiculed him, and advised my mother about sending him to a psychiatrist. Eventually my father raised the entire fiasco to the national media. It was utter humiliation. He was a fool, the rest of the world worships Mr. Satan, and his closest friend Buu. My father was put in a mental asylum.

I wasn't a fool like him, but I believed him. I secretly sought for the answer, and that's when I found something completely bizarre. Humans with extraordinary powers: The Golden Fighters. 12/2/889

**Fifteen hundred years later**

Fifteen thousand years passed since the mighty Mr. Satan defeated Cell from the world. The entire world was subjected to terror back then. But now one and a half millennium later, the world became more of a peaceful place. Men cheated men, men warred against men, but that's just about it. No weird alien-inhuman monsters popped up and mercilessly killed people like birds or insects.

Eastern Quadrant: 7X 22Y, Howrah Settlement.

"P5 to C1, sector 7 clear," the voice came in through the radio transmitters.

"C1 to P5, regroup with P4 and head to sector 11," the man answered back. The frustration on his face was visible. The insistent noise from the chopper's rotor only depleted his patience.

Darryl Burrt was one of those people who always carried a serious frown on his face. His square face which added ferocity to his piercing looks was ridden with many scars that soldiers proudly showed off. A fierce turbulent wind swept past him as he set his sight on the distant ground. His lips were pursed, his eyes on the distant ground underneath.

The entire settlement was empty, as if a monster chased every last one of the residents and sucked them to death. No, it was a simple curfew set up by the general of the private military himself. The city was now completely empty sans the army and the target.

"Sooner or later," he muttered attempting to calm himself. If the Privates can't find the target, he would have to send the specialists. Ah, that would be easier except there were a few complications. The specialists were meant to be a surprise for the target. If his soldiers followed his orders to the last letter the plan wouldn't fail. There was one thing he could say for sure, the target was as good as dead, the main question was when.

He looked at the radio, expecting good news every time someone was reporting. For his usual temper he would have done something drastic, but he was being paid fat cash enough to give him all the patience. What he earned through the government's military was a joke in comparison to what he earned the past few months.

The radio cackled once more, "P11 reporting sir!" The voice was rasped, added with the underlying panic. Could this be the good news he was waiting for? The target has finally appeared.

There was a brief silence from the other side as the man on the other side seem to take a second to catch his breath, "Sir, I am not sure about it but—" He was hesitant.

"Private Alder, just report whatever it is," he hated when people used 'I am not sure'; it was like putting a shield for the lack of diligence.

"Sir, Private Dennis has gone missing sir," the voice said, "He slipped while we were infiltrating the sector. He might be having some kind of clue on the target."

General Darryl felt his blood boil at once. Someone actually dared to disobey his command. That darn Dennis! He could be a mole from the UFN after all.

He immediately took the microphone into his hands, "Units P7, 8, 9 and 10 assist P11 to sector 12 now!"

He shouldn't fail, not when he was being paid more than the prime minister himself. Darryl immediately turned the radio on again, "K1, K2 we have zeroed on the target, move to sector 11 and stay on standby."

He couldn't fail because he liked perfection.

* * *

Dennis was happy. The target was here, there was no doubt it. The green visor on his left eye made sure of that.

The visor he had was developed by Capsule corporation, only god knows when, it had the power to sense the target. It was certainly an old device though, because it seemed to run on some age old processor that took longer to react. Still it was fast enough to suffice his demands.

"Now where are you, brat," he looked around. He heard that the target has superhuman strength. Ordinary guns would do nothing to him but what he had was something beyond that. He checked the ammunition level of his gun. The digital meter read hundred percent. Dennis had a satisfactory smile on his face.

The boy couldn't choose a better spot to hide. He completely avoided all the units and managed to get to Sector 12. The poor general was overestimating his own talent; the brat would easily get away soon.

'_Not if I could help it.' _

They were incompetent foot soldiers, but they were good enough to find a single rat in an entire city, and yet the target had escaped their eyes. If it weren't for this marvelous device called the 'scouter' or whatever, even Dennis couldn't have found him. This target was definitely worth the money; maybe he could ask more after the project.

The green device started giving a casual beep sound. A small dot appeared on the screen, "He's near."

Yes, he could feel it. There was someone around. Not counting the target, Dennis was alone on the main street in Sector 12. There were two junctions and six ways to get out from there. All of them were covered by one unit belonging to the military. The target was trapped, but he could escape if what Dennis heard about him was true. If the military was lucky they could perhaps find target, if the target was lucky the military would have to go back, then Dennis would be forced to go back too.

'_I have to get him soon.' _Either possibility was unfavorable to Dennis.

"I know you are here," he said aloud. The dot on the scouter continued to blink. He was met with silence, dead as the darkest of the nights, despite being a sunny afternoon.

"The military will be here in few seconds; you will be surrounded and killed just like that other 'Golden Fighter'." He turned around, scanning every single inch, and then with a sudden click the device zeroed in onto the car parked before the large shopping complex. Dennis clicked his tongue, and smirked in a venomous joy, that of a wild beast that cornered its prey. "The device on my eye isn't just a decoration you know. I know where exactly you are. If you could come out voluntarily and hand yourself to me, we can escape before the rest of them come."

* * *

**Random Note**: "_I repaired the power scouter on my wife's demand. She wanted to keep an eye on our little boy. Mom told me dad and his partner Nappa wore them when they first arrived here."_

—Trunks Briefs, 24/4/799.

* * *

A powerful explosion echoed through the settlement. It was a large booming noise that was followed by the clattering of the glass.

"Sector 12, sir!" The copter's pilot informed the general.

"That damn Dennis," the vein on Darryl's forehead throbbed, "All units, charge to Sector 12. K1, K2, you should move faster, we won't be able to hold the target for long!" Those Privates won't even stand a chance against the target, he desperately need those specialists to hurry the heck up.

Darryl jumped off the copter, which was now on the ground, and sprinted towards Sector 12. This was the worst outcome he had ever anticipated. He knew the target was shrewd, and hid in the settlement well. But Darryl had a game plan; he focused the infiltration in the other eleven sectors and forced him into the twelfth sector. He had units K3, K4 set up to ambush him in sector 13 which could be his only alternative to escape, and then K1 and K2 would stop him in Sector 11 if he tried to run back. If the target would meet any of K1, 2, 3, 4 that would be game. But that damn Dennis, he engaged the target before he could set up K1 and K2 in their positions. An ordinary foot soldier could never ever dream to stop him, not the _'_Golden Fighter'.

When he reached Sector 12, he was met with the terrified looks of eighty three soldiers, watching what lay before them, as if it were the deadliest of their dreams.

Following the dreaded gazes of his minions, he looked at what was supposed to be the ever-pompous streets of sector 12—

Only to be met by a trail of smoke, rising out of a minor crater. He noticed the remains of what seemed to be a car. Lying outside the crater was a horrifying scene, something he never watched in all the 28 years of military service.

Private Dennis, a spy from who-knows-which organization, was lying on the ground, his body twisted unnaturally. His legs and head were a completely 180 degree opposite in direction, twisted about his torso. His left cheek was severely deformed and discolored as if it was hit by a heavy truck.

The look on Dennis' face wasn't that of a completely surprised man. Maybe he was killed before he could even have a chance to be surprised.

Darryl watched the horror for a long second, before a bright light caught his attention. Behind the thick smoke was a sight he would never forget in his life.

He heard the name 'Golden Fighter' many a times before. He saw a couple of photos and was awestruck, but this! He never thought the difference between a photo and reality would be so immense.

The name was completely justified. He was a brilliant gold. It was not blonde, it was gold. There was heck of a difference between these colors. This was pure gold, something you can sell for millions; it was that kind of gold.

What lay beneath the golden light was a teenage boy, eighteen year old or so. Everything about the boy was golden, his hair stood up like porcupine's hair, while they swayed with the wind like a lion's mane. His eyes were a brilliant blue, illuminating with a sharp gaze. The eyes were like lasers, that could make the hearts of the bravest skip a beat.

The golden light around him was even more astounding. The energy the boy was emanating surrounded him like the sun's crest. It was divine.

Yes, if one couldn't call him a god, what else could they?

Darryl felt his throat turn dry; it took him a while to realize that his mouth was agape. His brain was slowly dragged into reality. He was scared out of wits by a teenage boy.

Anger swept through his body when Darryl realized that. He couldn't let his title 'Fearless' go down the ashes by a boy. No, he would rather die than that.

"Everyone, fire!"

He was supposed to wait till the units K1 and K2 get back, but fear replaced by anger made him forget each and every day of his experience as a calculative cold-blooded military strategist. He was simply fucked up.

Half of the men who were completely scared out of their wits looked at him like he was some kind of a ghost, the rest half who were true to their General's words pushed back their fears and opened fire with their rifles and pistols.

Hundreds of bullets rained on the surrounded Golden Fighter at once. The soldiers who shot didn't care what would have been their fate if he was a normal man, how he could have been blown to bits, how their own crazed bullets could have possibly harmed them.

But none of those consequences mattered with the reality, because none of that happened. The bullets simply bounced off, like a tennis ball that struck a hard concrete wall. The frenzy continued for a while until one by one everyone realized nothing was going on.

Darryl felt it then, a chill down his spine, a shudder that made him tremble all over, it was perpetual fear. He tried to say something, some order, something to prove he wasn't scared, and to lead his men to the charge. But fear over rid him, and what came out were whimpers.

The look on the target's face, it was a gaze of hatred, not specifically targeted at him, but the whole group. The golden blazing warrior, whom he couldn't comprehend as a eighteen year old teenager in jeans underneath, resembled a ferocious lion—No, a wounded lion.

"I won't make the same mistake like my brother," his lips moved, and the godly man spoke.

Out of all the irrational thoughts jumbling through his brain, a rational one then struck Darryl.

"_Once under a proper stimulus, they shall transform into the Golden Fighter. Once they do, the target is as good as a beast. He won't talk, he won't feel any other emotion, and all he does is killing."_

But this boy was completely under control. He was calm, focused. If that's the case then why was he talking?

Of course, it all makes sense. The name 'Golden Fighter' was sad to originate sometime one and a half millennium ago. But the only hint of a 'Golden Fighter' recently was the monster that was killed by the KMS, an army to which he was a proud general. The previous general was killed in the mission to catch the previous 'Golden Fighter'. This one was more of a fighter than a beast.

"I'm leaving," he spoke with finality.

Leave?

No, that couldn't happen. How could he leave just like that? He was supposed to catch the 'Golden Fighter'!

"W-Wait!" Darryl pushed his soldiers past and trudged towards the lone teenager.

"I am sorry," the boy said, "But I value my life, I don't want to die just—" The boy clenched his fists, and grit his teeth as if to let something inside him out. "YET!"

The coast was finally clear. Darryl lurched towards the boy, with every inch of strength his muscles offered. If only he were as strong as his determination.

The air around the boy grew increasingly turbulent. Within half a second, the calm air around turned into a storm. Tremors spread through the ground underneath Darryl sending him up into the sky. The stormy wind did the rest of the job; he was blown away like a piece of paper, as if to say how insignificant he was before the might of the boy's power. Yes, he was a god indeed.

The next thing he knew Darryl hit something hard, and the world around him turned black.

Despite the throbbing pain in his head as he fell unconscious, one single thought haunted him: I failed. He couldn't catch the 'Golden Fighter'.

* * *

**A/N: **This world is completely different from the Dragonball world you know. If you expect a story filled with heroic fights, Spirit Bombs, evil stomach-churning villains, then you will be disappointed. This is the story of a few people possessing immeasurable powers and yet forced to be on the run.

A hint to you guys throughout the story: The Super Saiyan in the future do not know what a Super Saiyan is, they do not know martial arts, Ki blasts and how to fly.


End file.
